(a triolet)
.
I cannot write a poem today;
my muse is out, you see.
I’ve bid her to come out and play.
I cannot write a poem today.
I wish she’d swim back ’round and stay,
but she’s ignoring me.
I cannot write a poem today;
my muse is out to sea.
.
.
Prompted by Poetic Asides.
Whimsygizmo's Blog 
I love your “I can’t write poems” poems. They are so good. 🙂 Did you see my new word list?
This is exactly where I am today. I’m glad you wrote it because I couldn’t. Lovely.
I read them all…I have spent the past day reading all these poems. Giggling, nodding, wiping tears. Gosh, I just love the way you play and weave words.
are you still at the sea shore ?
Oh, I WISH. If so, I could corral her properly. Nope. Hopelessly desert bound. But on my way to my Lake, this Sunday. 😉
ah… the muse is not so confined by things like air-plane reservations. Enjoy your time at the lake.
It will be 50 here and we will celebrate 🙂
This is very good – and you stuck to a form. But you are contradicted by the many you have written today 🙂 Though some were technically yesterday (on my feed anyway)!